Sleep With Me
by Heath1993
Summary: It's an unspoken agreement that bed is for sleeping, considering we both suffer in the throes of nightmares and like to have an anchor to reality. Kissing has never come into it before, at least not like this. PeetaxKatniss.


**Title:** Sleep With Me

**Author:** Heath1993

**Characters/Pairing:** Peeta/Katniss

**Rating:** M (Non-explicit sexual content)

**Spoilers:** Mockingjay

**Summary:** It's an unspoken agreement that bed is for sleeping, considering we both suffer in the throes of nightmares and like to have an anchor to reality. Kissing has never come into it before, at least not like this.

xXxXx

Moonlight streams in through the window, and casts a soft white glow across the room. The air is cool in the room, on what skin I have exposed. I still have the impulse to don armor even when I am going to bed, but I know that if I form such a habit, I will repeat it every day until I die, and never overcome the anxiety.

The front of my body is warm, from absorbing Peeta's body heat. His episodes recur quite often but he has not attacked me as a result of it since he closed his hand around my throat when he was first recovered from the Capitol. It has taken time, but he is a comfort rather than a stress.

In the dull light, I can see that his eyes are still open, and looking into mine. I brush a piece of hair off his forehead and tuck it back to keep it out of his face.

"Katniss," he says quietly. We both keep a hushed tone after nightfall, a leftover habit from the Games, how we kept our voices low so as not to be killed by anybody hunting us by night.

"Yeah?" My volume may be low but my tone still alert. The nightmares don't help me to fall asleep, nor does the residual fear of being murdered as I rest.

"Are you warm enough?" he asks. I nod. Peeta's heat is offset by a slight chill on my shoulders but I'm comfortable enough.

His grip around me tightens a little, and my body shifts across the bed by a couple of inches until I am pressed against him completely. One of his arms is draped across my hips and the other curled around my waist. My right arm rests over his ribs and my left is tucked in, my hand lying atop one of his.

The distance being closed has brought out faces right up together. Our noses would brush against each other if we just moved a bit closer. Apparently, Peeta has other ideas, because he angles his head and kisses me. It comes as a bit of a surprise but I return it.

Peeta pulls back after a moment and his grip on me loosens. It's an unspoken agreement that bed is for sleeping, considering we both suffer in the throes of nightmares and like to have an anchor to reality. Kissing has never come into it before, at least not like this, and certainly not since the final events of the war.

The sweet taste lingers on my lips and I just look at him. I'm unsure of what I should do, but Peeta makes up my mind for me and captures my lips again. I reciprocate, anything is better than lying awake with nothing to ease the fear that sleep instills. Maybe a few kisses will relax us both enough that we will get through the night without incident. I wish. That hasn't happened since the Games.

This second kiss is lingering on a little more. Peeta seems to have pulled together a bit more confidence and his tongue sweeps across my lip. I open my mouth and slip my tongue out to meet his.

My hands move up and tangle in his hair as he shifts his weight to his elbows. Peeta doesn't even break the kiss in the process, but I do, when I feel him lifting my vest and tracing circles on my bare skin. He immediately yanks his hand away, as if I am made of fire. I was just shocked that he would actively tug my shirt up and broke on reflex.

He thinks he has gone too far, I see it in his eyes. It's kind of like he's scared I'll kick him out of the room to sleep alone and fall prey to the nightmares without any help.

My desire to keep kissing him compels me to tell him what's going on in such a way that it invites more attention.

"I'm actually a little bit cold now. So if you're going to bare any of my skin, you'll have to keep me warm." It suddenly strikes us both that the sentence has certain adult implications and even in the darkness, I'm sure he must see my blush, because I'm certain I can make his out.

I place my hand on his face and push his curl back again, then pull myself up. I sit in front of him and dig my fingers under the hem of my shirt, lifting it off over my head. I discard it to the floor. My burn marks still stretch over much of my torso, but are gradually fading.

Peeta, now sat on his knees, tentatively traces his fingers over them, as if it will hurt me, and looks to me for approval. I just respond with another kiss, and fall to the side to tug him down on top of me.

Our teeth bump together for a moment because I didn't break the kiss, and both of us make sounds of discomfort. Peeta pulls back and touches his to check they're alright, as I do the same. Once we've verified we haven't lost any, we share an awkward smile.

"Well, that hurt," he says, and returns to tracing patterns over my skin. The marks seem to distract Peeta, so I try to get his attention again. If he had another episode now, it would spoil the mood completely.

"Hey," I say, as I lift his chin and make him meet my eyes. "Kiss me again."

That seems to do it, because he nods and presses his lips to mine. For several minutes, that's all we do, but my mind begins to wander. I start to think of how badly I want him to kiss and feel the rest of me.

In the past, I had never given much thought to sex. For one thing, there were two guys to choose from, until recently I couldn't even consider it without breaking a heart. Then there was the war, there was no time anyway. Plus the exposure of vulnerable skin, open to attack, which still frightens me. But from what I've heard of it, people kill over it. They abuse people like Finnick to simply have it more often. So maybe the way it feels will override my fear.

There's only one way to find out. I break the kiss again and pull Peeta's shirt over his head. Without that layer of clothing between us, I'm able to feel the heat of his skin under my hands.

I trace the outlines of his muscles for a few moments and swallow the lump in my throat.

"Sleep with me," I say. Peeta is usually quick to understand what I say, even when I'm trying to be subtle, even when I'm lying he can see the truth, which is usually annoying.

But I can see the cogs turning in his head as he processes my words. He comes up with, "You want to go to sleep?"

It's tempting to sigh, but I don't. I did spring it on him after all and he probably didn't expect it. Rather than using words - which I will probably mess up anyway - I use actions to show what I meant.

I slip my hands behind my back and pull the clasp of my bra apart, then let the two sides fall slack down my back. The straps slip off my shoulders and I hesitate, but allow it to fall to the bed.

Peeta stares at my chest and swallows. It feels kind of awkward to just be kneeling there, getting stared at, so I shift forward and press my chest against his. I lean up and kiss him again, and I feel one of his shaky hands slowly sliding down my bare back and working my pants down off my hips. To help Peeta get them off me, I reach a hand down too and push on the other side. It only takes a few seconds until I'm naked save for my underwear.

I've never felt this exposed and vulnerable, but I've also never craved anything this bad. Not even the morphling in the aftermath of the war.

In no time at all, I've got Peeta's pants off too, and all that remains between us is our underwear. It suddenly occurs to me that we don't have any protection. We had never thought of it, the thought of sex has never crossed our minds before now.

I wonder if I can let it go this once, because I don't want to stop now. But of course it's his choice too, so I bring it up, hoping it won't be a deal breaker, especially considering I can get my hands on a morning after pill.

"It's alright. It's our first time, people make mistakes and forget things. I don't mind going without."

My lips curl into a smile and I kiss him again, though I remember to break it before I pull him down again.

Peeta kisses my neck and works his way down to my chest. I can feel a blush paint my face. Though I've been seen naked before, when being styled for the pre-game interviews, it's never been like this, with somebody's hands slipping so intimately across my skin.

I take a moment to gather up my bravery - funny, it's never been much of an issue before - and then I start to tug his underwear down. Though my shyness about other people being naked has ebbed since the revolution and the steady flow of patients to my mother, it has resurfaced again and I wonder if we can do this without me having to look below his waist. At the same time, he gets his fingers into the elastic of my underwear and begins to slip them down my legs.

Somewhat clumsily, we negotiate around each other into a new position, so that he's sat between my legs after both of us are bare. I keep my eyes on his whenever possible, or at least on his face when he has to look elsewhere to avoid making a wrong move and knocking us both off. Because I've pulled him down, we've changed spots and are now rather close to the edge of the bed.

Peeta looks to me for approval before he does anything, and slowly, he presses his way inside me. A breath hitches in my throat, in anticipation of pain, as I've heard the first time will hurt. But it doesn't, so I let the breath fly out from my lungs and slowly pull another in. There's no pain, but it's an odd feeling. I slowly move my legs to rest against his hips.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes. And no. I'm alright, Peeta," I say. He nods and begins to rock his hips against me. It feels even weirder now, but still not painful or unpleasant. As Peeta starts to kiss my neck again, I shut my eyes. I can feel a bit of his weight resting on me, from where our skin is in contact.

I feel the stirrings of a panic attack. Being underneath him, feeling his breath, his hands going over my most vulnerable points, it makes me feel like it's time for fight or flight. But I open my eyes and look up at him. It's not somebody trying to kill me in the arena. It's Peeta. He loves me. I try to keep that in mind, but then his hand brushes across my most sensitive place between my legs and I no longer need to try. There is no attacker in the world who would ever want to do something to me that feels that good.

My toes curl against my soles and Peeta looks pleased with himself for getting my reaction. He repeats the movement and I try to say his name but all that I manage is a moan, one loud enough that it would surely reveal our whereabouts had we attempted to do this in the arena. We manage to get into a position where he can keep stroking me there, while kissing me and tracing his fingers up and down my ribcage. He whispers my name in my ear and I can only reply with murmurs and the occasional gasp.

Slowly, my thoughts fade out, like a candle come to the end of its wick. I'm unable to focus on anything but how it feels, and I'm sure Peeta's the same, because his whispering has stopped and only half formed words escape his mouth.

I'm not sure how long it takes - minutes, hours - but my thoughts all tumble back into my head and crash into each other when I feel all my muscles contract. Involuntarily, my back arches, my breath catches, my eyes squeeze shut and it takes me a moment to realise that the long cry is actually coming from me. My skin has a thin layer of sweat across it, and I open my eyes back up to see that Peeta is the same. He moves his hips a few more times before he tosses his head back and groans.

When Peeta leaves my body, there's a strange sense of emptiness that lingers in the minutes following. He lies down again, back on his side of the bed, and pulls me close. Some of his hair has stuck to his face, so I push it away.

Though I know it's still chilly, my body feels warm, and the silence is only broken by our desperate panting. My hand rests against his cheek, our eyes still locked, as gradually our breathing slows. My heart continues to beat a rhythm against my ribs, though.

"You love me. Real or not?" he whispers.

Peeta has never directly asked me that before. But, with honesty, I answer, "Real."

A smile spreads across his face and lights up those dazzling eyes.

xXxXx

The following morning, when the first rays of light land on the white sheets and make them glow a soft orange, my eyes flutter open. Peeta has woken me with a tiny little kiss. For a few moments, things are hazy as my brain adjusts, then our eyes lock as we both realise it.

"No nightmares," he says. That smile returns again and I find myself with one to match. For the first time since the bloodshed ended, things are looking up. I snuggle back into his arms, and listen to his heartbeat as he strokes my hair, and his warmth carries me back to sleep.

xXxXx

**Notes:** This is the first sex scene I've ever tried to write, my first HG fic, and the first fanfic I have written in about three years. I tried to make it as realistic as I could and not bow to the conventions of PWP where the couple is able to do it with complete confidence, and in twenty different positions, even though they're virgins. I particularly hate the cliché that the first time always hurts for the girl. Anyone with common sense should know that if it hurts - you're doing it wrong, to quote a meme.

**Edit: Thanks to Starzki for pointing out my oversight! :)**

I'd like a bit of feedback on it please, so I know if I've got anything mixed up, or if there are any fiddly little details that could do with fixing. It was a challenge because I'm a guy, and I'm not sure I got Katniss' voice right considering she's a girl. Thanks.


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